Pat Rollins: Rabbit hunting with Patches and Sniffles

Tuesday

Dec 4, 2012 at 3:15 AM

I was sitting at the breakfast table the other morning looking over some hunting brochures when my buddy Pete stopped by to see if I’d be interested in joining him for a day of rabbit hunting just south of the White Mountains. There was a light coating of snow up in the hills and he couldn’t wait to run his youngest beagle with the 9-year-old veteran. The year-old pup was impressive right out of the box, teaming up with the old dog to run three snowshoe hares on our trip.

“I haven’t hunted the two dogs together yet,” my friend confessed, “but I think they’ll work good as a team. Patches has been the best rabbit dog I’ve ever owned and I think Sniffles is going to be even better!”

I put on a pot of coffee while I got my gear together, then after filling a thermos I headed out with my buddy to see if we could get the dogs on a rabbit or two.

“Where are we going?” I asked as he headed up the interstate.

“I’ve got a spot about an hour north of here that they logged off a few years ago that’s loaded with prime rabbit habitat,” he replied. “You won’t believe it when you see it. It’s loaded with snowshoe hare. Every time I head up here we get at least one rabbit.”

Both dogs laid on an old blanket on the back seat as Pete made his way along a series of old dirt roads that led us deeper into the foothills of the White Mountains.

“Looking at them you wouldn’t think we were on our way to go hunting,” he said with a chuckle as one of the dogs began to snore. “But as soon as we stop the truck they’ll be all excited.”

“Why did you name the little female Sniffles?” I asked.

He told me that his daughter came up with the name because when she was a puppy her nose was always running.

Like Pete said, as soon as we stopped the truck both dogs jumped to their feet and they started scratching at the door.

“Where’s the rabbit?” Pete said as he scratched both dogs on the head. “Do you guys want to go hunting?”

Before we even opened the door both dogs were barking wildly. Pete put the pair on leashes and after we slipped our jackets on and grabbed our shotguns, we made our way about a half a mile up a narrow winding logging road that lead us into a grassy swamp surrounded by softwood thickets.

There was a light coating of fresh snow on the ground that covered much of the ground cover. Aside from a few bare spots under some pine trees, the ground was white.

Pete explained that there where a series of five old beaver dams off to our right that had been broken up several years ago. He said that the water was gone now and that a mix of tall grasses, brush piles and spruce thickets had replaces them.

“It’s prime hare habitat,” he said as we left the logging road and started into a long grassy swamp.

Pete knelt down next to both dogs, rubbed their heads, gave them a word of encouragement, then unhooked the beagles from their leashes.

“Get ready man,” he said with a laugh as we watched both dogs begin to dart back and forth with tails wagging and their noses to the ground.

I flipped my little 20-gauge pump over and loaded four number six shot shells in it before a pumped one in the chamber. Pete loaded his .410 double barrel shotgun, then we stood there and waited for the dogs to do their work.

I don’t think we waited 10 minutes before the dogs cut loose and began barking wildly. Each dog had a distinct bark. Pete said the older dog was the one who sounded really excited. The young dog’s bark sounded like you’d just shut her tail in the truck door.

My friend listened to his dogs for a couple minutes before motioning for me to move off to the left.

“It sounds like they’re running him through a really thick patch of spruce trees up here in front of us,” he said. “They’ll probably cross up here near a stone wall; get up near that wall and watch the narrow grassy spot between the two spruce thickets.”

I listened to the dogs chase the rabbit through the spruce and after several minutes they began closing in on my location. I kept an eye on the narrow opening in the thick cover and when the rabbit finally came by, it was going so fast I never got a shot.

“He’s coming your way!” I yelled to Pete.

Moments later I heard his .410 sound off. Then he hollered back, “Do you like rabbit stew?”

An hour or so later the dogs caught another fresh track near a bunch of treetops left behind when they logged off some big oak trees near the edge of a large grassy swamp. The dogs ran the rabbit around the brush piles for a good half an hour before I finally got my chance.

I watched the hare dart behind a thick pile of brush and when he came out the other side I took my first snowshoe hare of the season.

Pete congratulated me and we praised both dogs for a job well done before we began the long walk back to the truck.

“I think you’ve got a good combination here,” I said of hunting the old dog with the puppy.

Pete knelt down and patted both dogs before looking up at me and adding, “The old man here is gonna teach Sniffles everything she needs to know to be a great one.”